A is for Accident
by TheQueenOfMediocrity
Summary: Drabbles inspired by The Dresden Dolls album "A is for Accident."
1. Track 9: Will

Track 9: Will

_I won't try to explain what I cannot understand. It's a bird; it's a plane; it's a one night stand. If only we could ride far enough, I'd forget you altogether; it's a bluff; there is no way I could not remember.  
_

Inexplicable attraction… maybe it wasn't so inexplicable after all. I was a hormonal, brash teenager, and you were my commanding officer. You were something forbidden; everyone knows those are the things we want most. Of course, I was forbidden to you too, wasn't I? I can feel you touching me even now, phantoms of caresses and rougher strokes. I can remember the combination of pain and ragged pleasure, the pressure of _you_, and how you went away after it was all over. You were my first, and my second, and my third… I lost count after that. It hurts to remember, and I'd love to be able not to. Not everything is as simple as wanting, though_.  
_

_Don't ask me what I came here for; it is too delicate for words. I used to want to make you talk; now I would rather you did not._

I'm honestly not sure what I thought I could accomplish by dropping by. Maybe it was just to see your nauseating smirk one more time… or maybe to watch it disappear from your bastard face. I used to try and coax the conversation out of you…'pillow talk', I guess. I told you so much I thought I would never be able to tell anyone, because I guess I thought I should be able to be honest with the only person I'd ever slept with. Then, you were honest with me. It was a truth I didn't want to hear, but I suppose I needed to hear it. After a while, your truths morphed into mere insults and derisive comments. I felt those physically, viscerally. It was all I could do to hold my tongue when all I really wanted to was shout 'shut up'.

_I don't mind if you read while I'm coming. It's alright if you need the TV to keep from noticing my mind going blank; what's the worst thing that could happen? Is my back all that bad? Strike the match and watch the doll come open._

It's fine…I'll just bare my body and my soul for you, it's just peachy if you ignore me while I do. I apologize from the bottom of my heart that I got so boring for you after a while that you knocked out some of that novel you've been finishing, you know, just while you're fucking me. Bottoming for you almost felt like this huge privilege... god, I was stupid. You ignored me, but I still appreciated you for being there, with me, next to me... I'm such an idiot. I must have been desperately lonely.

_Don't ask me what I want from you; it is not something you could purposely do. I used to want to make you mine; now I have better things in mind..._

You aren't capable of being the kind of person I need or want. I want someone who can help me through the rough patches of being me, not someone who could only make me feel guilt. I want someone who I can love who can love me. I don't think you're capable of truly loving anybody but yourself. It's amazing that I you used to want you all for myself; now all I want is to see you leave and never come back.


	2. Track 1: Missed Me

A is for Accident: Track 1, Missed Me

_Missed me, missed me, now you've gotta kiss me!  
If you kiss me, mister, I might tell my sister.  
If I tell her, mister, she might tell my mother and my  
mother, mister, she might tell my father and my father,  
mister, he won't be too happy and he'll have his lawyer  
come up from the city and arrest you, mister,  
so I wouldn't miss me if you get me, mister… see? _

Fresh off my mission… of course, I could expect you to send me away on my birthday, not even giving me time to celebrate...did you miss me, Bastard? You know, I'm 17 now, almost all grown up. Don't think I don't notice how glad that makes you, I see how you look at me; I can see how you undress me with your eyes. I know how that looks because I do the same to you almost every day… and almost every night. All these years you thought you had me dancing in your palm, when all along I could have controlled you with a single look, a single touch, caress, or a single… kiss. Ha-ha, you like this, don't you? Going behind everyone's back, fucking a subordinate, an _under aged_ subordinate, no less. It must make you feel so powerful and naughty.

I can take all that power away anytime I want to.

_Missed me, missed me, now you've gotta kiss me.  
If you kiss me, mister, you must think I'm pretty.  
If you think so, mister, you must want to fuck me.  
If you fuck me, mister, it must mean you love me.  
If you love me, mister, you would never leave me  
it's as simple as can be! _

Mmm…I could never deny that you're a good kisser, even if I wanted to. Your lips, all over my face and my neck and my chest and- ah, there too. You know I'm pretty; say I'm pretty Roy, say I'm pretty! That's right...do you love me? Ah…_that_ sounds like a 'yes'. Felt like one, too. Even if it's not, before long you won't be able to say no. You will _never_ be able to say no.

_Missed me, missed me, now you've gotta kiss me.  
If you miss me, mister, why do you keep leaving?  
if you trick me, mister, I will make you suffer  
and they'll get you, mister, put you in the slammer and forget  
you, mister, then you'll miss me won't you, miss me  
won't you miss me?_

_Another_ mission, Roy? You're sending me on another mission? Are you for serious? You're not planning on spending time with some of those floozies are you? After all this time together, I sort of thought we were getting close and all you want is distance. I _can_ arrange that. All I have to do is say 'Colonel Mustang's been _**touching**_ me!" And you'd go down in flames; you'd go to jail and you'd lose any chance you ever had of becoming Fuhrer. After working at that goal for the better part of your life, I hardly think you'd want to lose that, now would you?

What? You say that mission's been reassigned? Oh, how disappointing. And I was so looking forward to this one.

_Missed me, missed me, now you've gotta kiss me.  
If you kiss me, mister, take responsibility.  
I'm fragile, mister, just like any girl would be  
and so misunderstood so treat me delicately._

How can you say this is my fault, you big bully? You're a grown up, you really ought to have_ some _self control. You didn't have to come crawling after me; you could've refused my advances. I'm no mere piece of tail; you wouldn't need me for that. You liked me because you weren't supposed to have me, and that's all on you, baby. Don't go blaming innocent minors for your silly mistakes.

_Missed me, missed me, now you've gone and done it,  
hope you're happy in the county penitentiary!  
It serves you right for kissing little girls, but I will visit, if you miss me.  
Say you miss me!  
How's the food they feed you?  
Do you miss me?  
Will you kiss me through the window?  
Do you miss me, miss me?  
Will they ever let you go?  
I miss my mister so._

I had to do it, Roy. You made me. You knew how much I cared for you and how much I wanted you all for me, and you had to go and bring me down, after all that being there you, you drop me on my ass. That's hardly kind. You only got what you deserved.

I must admit, kissing you _was_ rather nice…I think I'm actually going to miss it. How long did they say you'd be in there again? Oh, well. I'm sure that time will just fly by, and we can rebuild everything you so carelessly destroyed.

Till' then, I really will miss you.


	3. Track 6: Glass Slipper

Track 6: Glass Slipper

_No one's asking to go dancing; it's not like that anymore. It's romantic if they mean it when they shut your fingers in the door. It's a gory sort of story that's been told a hundred times before. It gets tricky, don't be picky; if the slipper fits you wear it, whore.  
_

I stopped hoping a long time ago that any of them would want to 'just talk'. Nah, and even if they say they do, it always ends up the same; sore and sticky, pile of money on the bureau and that emptiness that won't fill up. I wish I could say I felt shame or remorse, but my pride is just too far gone for any of that anymore.

_How many tips can I take home tonight without them getting mad? How many stitches do you think it takes to fix a cut that bad? How many minutes until midnight and you get your eyesight back? _

The best part is when their spare change falls out of their pockets when they drop trough, and they don't notice. They're never going to miss it, and besides, I think I earned my tips, hon. The worst part is when they think it's cool if they hurt me just because they're paying to fuck me. Then I might actually sock the guy. Customers come in and they treat me like their own personal play thing- some of the bastards even bring little outfits for me to wear. Apparently I pass for female if you get me in just the right miniskirt, and these fucks aren't that particular. Usually they behave themselves until the hour's up, and they remember I'm a man and get the fuck out. Luckily I usually get to keep all the little outfits. Oh, joy.

_Not to knock it; I've been off it, never moving very much at once. It's been awkward, I still offer it when it's that time of- Other girls shower but I give out flowers to curious strangers who throw dollars at my feet!_

I really am full of shit, aren't I? I complain, but what the fuck do I do to change it? Not a fucking damn thing. I'm still working my corner, never trying to leave. How the fuck did I get here anyway? It's been so long I don't even remember. Was it after I left the military? Whatever, I guess I'll just keep donning my miniskirt and working my corner, picking up the curious strangers like the good little whore I am.

_How many crimes can I try spotting dry before it leaves a stain? How many times say that I love you till it doesn't mean a thing? How many fittings must I sit through with my big feet blistering? How many times until it strips me and my big mouth strikes again?_

I don't know how many sheets I've gone through, ruined, tainted with reminders. I've learned to just buy the plain cotton kind now, the kind that's easy to wash. None of that fancy shit for me anymore, just the worst kind of vulnerability. I hate being vulnerable, so sometimes I run my mouth. That usually means I don't get my tip and the Boss hits me. That's my favorite part of the job because it means I might actually have a shred of my dignity left after all. Getting a little smartass, just like the old me.

_I'm not asking to go dancing; I'm not that dumb anymore. It's exhausting to keep smiling when your toes are bleeding on the floor. It's a gory sort of story that's been told a hundred times before. Don't be sorry; just ignore me because honestly I'm too sore from fitting exactly to ride into setting suns aching to stand on my own two feet!_

I'm not naïve enough to think there will be some happy ending situation here. So I'll keep putting on my show for the Johns, collecting the dirty money and mourning my sorry fate. Maybe eventually I'll be able to break away, find something different for myself, something good and decent and prideful. Maybe that's what I'll think about now.

_How many wishes do I still have left to fix the way it ends? How many princes do you think it takes to put a girl like this back together again? How many instances can you point out where I was less than kind? How many happy endings do you need to change your fucking mind? And how much time do we have left before it's midnight, and you see that I was never the right size?_

Wishing is the easiest thing in the world to do. If only it were so easy to act on all those vain wishes, seeking out the prince who will sweep me off my feet and carry me away on his glistening white steed… if only. I'm not naïve, but I can do it. I can get away and never come back.

I'll never have to deal with another disappointing midnight ever again.


End file.
